


nickels in the jar

by ghoultown



Series: a dad, a demon, and their son [1]
Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Demon Shane Madej, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Maybe Lovers, Ryan is a dad, Ryan is strict?, Shane has wings, Shane is embarrassed, Shane is okay with kids, Shane likes drugs, Strangers to Friends, single dad, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-19 20:22:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15517845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghoultown/pseuds/ghoultown
Summary: when shane woke up with a kid standing over him and his neck practically broken, he figured there was no way anything would get better. then he saw the kid’s dad.or, the one where ryan is a strict-ish dad and shane is a demon





	nickels in the jar

**Author's Note:**

> i love parent au's and demon au's so here's a mix

All he could remember was the hour trip to Geneva, the flavor of sour coffee on the way, the easy rhythm of dead blood against the bass of his car speakers thrumming. On the way to a deal, on the way to a fancy house with orange sconces outside with big, shiny shadow cars in the driveway with big, dull shadow men sitting inside them (with big boxes of the really fancy "good soul stuff" he'd been searching for since last Fall).

He remembered "not having the currency," but that was about it. All he had to work with.

He felt the pain first, hardly jogging his memory of 15 pairs of steel-toe boots against his torso and neck--and he'd never imagined more pain than a crick in his neck, but this was ridiculous. When he opened his eyes, he felt the warm sunglasses on his face - the glasses that were in his front pocket from the night before - and after a few moments, he was aware of his surroundings and looking up at a 5-year-old body looking down at him curiously.

Shane went to say something but grimaced at the combined pain of his aching neck and something digging into his back. He glanced down at himself. They had dumped him on someone's damn porch steps.

"I think I should get my dad," the boy said decidedly. He turned to leave.

"Hold on," Shane said gruffly, surprised at his own voice. If he knew that getting his neck kicked in would make him sound like such a manly man, he would have advised his first murderers to aim for his jugular. He held a hand up to stop the kid from moving any further, "Where am I?"

"15 Pleasant Drive," the boy said, eyebrows scrunching like Shane was stupid for asking.

"No. No, honey, I mean state. What state am I in?" Shane paused and dropped his sunglasses lower on his nose, "Are you even old enough to know what a state is?"

The boy frowned, "California."

Shane's face was blank.

"Do you know what a state is, sir?"

"Yeah. Could you help me up? I need to go home."

"Where is your home, sir?" The boy asked, grasping onto Shane's outstretched (and shaky) hands and pulling him to his feet, "Wow, you're skinny."

"Chicago," Shane's said distantly, looking around the pastel suburbia with squinting eyes, "but thanks."

He went to step toward the street, maybe go somewhere and ask to use a phone or jump on a bus, but he heard a higher voice behind him, "Wyatt, what have I told you about strangers?"

"He's from Chicago," Wyatt said proudly, pointing to Shane's unsteady form, "He forgot what a state is."

"I know what a state is," Shane's whined, pressing his palm to his ribs and groaning at the sharp pain that shot through his neck like static. He turned to apologize to the man in the doorway, but as soon as he spotted that shock of dark hair and the cautiously loose sweatpants. "Hi, I'm sorry--"

"Are you okay?" The stern dad face melted away as soon as he laid eyes on Shane's neck and bare arms. "Woah, are you... holy shit."

"Dad!"

"Sorry, go put a nickel in the jar, Wy," the dad said, not taking his eyes off of the bruised stranger on his porch. Wyatt sprinted into the house, but the man just lingered in the doorway.

"I woke up here," Shane began to explain, but his voice gave out and he placed his hand on his throat uncomfortably.

"Don't... hurt yourself. Come inside, I'll google how to fix neck injuries."

Shane would have made a joke if he wasn't in agony. He just blindly stumbled into the bright blue house and wondered if he would be able to leave fast enough to avoid telling the attractive dad why he was in this mess in the first place.

(Of course, unbeknownst to him, that wouldn't be the case.)

After the dad showed him to the bathroom and gave him some clothes to change into (he definitely smelled like blood and old coffee), Shane took a shower and focused the warm water on his neck. He didn't want to look down and watch the water turn black.

This was what he got for trying to use souls as a damn vice. He should have stuck to alcohol like normal demons.

He swiped a hand down the foggy mirror and was almost shocked at his complexion. His neck and the underside of his jaw was a mess of purples and ugly greens, mimicking the galaxy pattern he'd seen teens wear on t-shirts. He brushed his hands down his chest, feeling guilty for admiring the patterns the boots had left behind. He wondered why he'd been dropped off in California, sure, though he was thankful that they'd been kind enough to drop him in a nice neighborhood.

The clothes were ill-fitting, but he appreciated them nonetheless.

Ryan sat him down in a dining room chair set up in the middle of the living room and told him to sit up as straight as possible. Wyatt lounged in a La-Z-Boy recliner, squinting and tapping at an iPhone. Shane grumbled. Kid was too young to have a phone.

Ryan slowly rotated Shane's head this way and that, pausing every few minutes to check his phone to see if he was doing it right. Shane would have said something about how strange everything was but he was in a world of pain, and the strangeness factor was probably well known by everyone in the house by that point. Plus he'd never turned down a handsome man before.

"You're from Chicago?" Ryan asked between apologies after Shane hissed. He quickly handed the tall figure a warm pack.

"Mhm," Shane hummed. He closed his eyes and desperately wished he could sleep as he pressed the pack against the worst spot of pain.

"So..." Ryan said, dropping onto the couch and looking at him expectantly, "Why'd you come here?"

"I..." Shane made a face, "I don't know if I can answer that question. I woke up on your porch."

"So you were unconscious on the trip." Ryan stared at him for awhile, "Was it...?"

Shane stared back, "What?"

The stare-off didn't last long, but it didn't have to. Shane knew what that look was. That was the look people had when they saw him duck into alleys with crumpled bills in his hand. It had only happened once or twice, but it still stung. Sure, they didn't know he wasn't grabbing a bag of crack, but it was still embarrassing.

"His uncle was the same," Ryan said plainly. He was certainly back to being a dad. Shane nodded through the pain. Wyatt didn't look up from the phone. "None of that shit in the house."

"Nickel in the jar!" Wyatt hopped up and ran into the kitchen.

"I wouldn't... I'm not..." Shane hardly wanted to make this man think less of him. "I'm not hooked. On drugs."

Ryan didn't answer. He simply asked Wyatt, when he returned, to show Shane to the guest room. Shane told him that he could just sleep on the couch, but Ryan reminded him that his neck was in no condition to sleep on an uncomfortable sofa. He was silently grateful.

Wyatt must have toured people through the house many times in the past because he basically recited each room name and purpose as they passed. "And there's my room, it has lots of Legos in it but you aren't allowed in there unless I say you're allowed in there."

"Yeah, I figured," Shane scoffed.

"That's Dad's room," Wyatt said, pointing to a bright blue door with a silver door handle. "Definitely don't go in there. Unless you have a nightmare, but you still gotta knock."

Shane eyed the door as they passed. Wyatt introduced him to a few more rooms, but he wasn't listening. Finally, Wyatt tugged on his sleeve and pulled him into the guest room.

"This is gonna be your room. When you come up with your rule, tell me," Wyatt said.

"I don't think I'll be staying here long enough to make rules," Shane said quietly. He looked around the blue room and sighed. "I'll tell you, though."

Wyatt placed his hands on his hips and looked up at Shane, "You shouldn't do drugs anymore."

Shane scoffed. Of course the kid knew what was happening. "Don't worry, I won't."

-

After an hour or two of trying to fall asleep and being interrupted by jolts of searing pain, Shane gave up and slid out of the bed. He straightened his shirt around his torso before edging toward the door, turning the knob as slowly as possible.

He prayed that they had coffee in the house. If they didn't, he might actually die again.

Luckily, in addition to spotting a coffee maker when he turned into a kitchen, he saw Ryan hunched over his own mug of coffee with what could only be described as a 'worryingly thoughtful look.' Shane wondered if he should go back to the room, but ultimately decided against it.

"...Hi stranger," Shane said carefully, not wanting to scare him.

Ryan jumped and turned to look at him, "Oh, hey."

"Didn't mean to scare you," Shane said. He stepped in and pointed to the mug, "It alright if I grab some?"

"One of the less life-threatening addictions," Ryan said sourly before shaking his head, "Sorry, I didn't..."

"No, I got it," he replied calmly, placing his hand on the back of his neck as he maneuvered toward the coffee maker. "I don't take enough to get addicted, though I'm pretty sure if I hadn't been beaten up and shipped across the nation I wouldn't have stopped--"

"Am I a bad dad for letting a stranger into the house when he obviously does drugs?" Ryan asked, turning his head just slightly but not looking at him.

Shane paused in his coffee selecting, "It's not bad parenting from my perspective. Of course, I'm biased."

Ryan smiled warily.

"But," Shane continued, closing the lid of the maker, "I know that I'm very thankful for your hospitality. And I worry for your son's overwhelming self-awareness."

"He's a compulsive googler."

"So are you," Shane squinted at the machine, "Which of these makes the coffee?"

"Blue one. And I'm pretty sure it's hereditary," Ryan stood upright and pivoted to look at him, "Your voice is a lot higher than it was earlier."

"Is that bad?" Shane asked, keeping his eyes away. He didn't feel like sobbing in front of the handsome guy who extended his generosity to him. That would be embarrassing.

"No. You're not as scary, now," Ryan replied.

Shane scoffed, but it was mostly a sigh of relief. "Wyatt certainly wasn't scared of me."

"He never is. He's fearless," Ryan shook his head, "I lost count of the times I've had to explain that he shouldn't approach or talk to strangers. He just loves making friends."

"That's not a bad quality. Though I did worry about his judgment, just standing over an unconscious stranger that ended up on his porch."

"Yeah, I was worried too. But I might have panicked when I saw the state of you," Ryan grimaced, "What happened?"

"I was going to try the good stuff. My... uh, ex said it was to die for, but I didn't know that if I was a dollar short they'd get me a hell of a lot closer to death," Shane tapped his fingers on the linoleum as he watched his mug fill. "Stupid. I was stupid."

"My brother did the same, but he had enough," Ryan nodded.

Shane frowned, "Is that why Wyatt knows so much?"

"He came by once, screaming about money. Took about a thousand dollars," the shorter man shrugged like it was nothing but he was curling in on himself. "Wyatt asked some questions, I answered them. That's what parenting is."

"He's a smart kid," Shane said quietly. He picked up the mug and joined Ryan against the island. Shane smiled gratefully as he was tossed a few sugar packets. "You should be proud."

"I am. I'm not too proud of myself right now, but I didn't see any guns on you and you haven't screamed at us, so I don't think you're anything like my brother."

"I don't think I've screamed in my life," Shane admitted.

"Well, there's always time," Ryan told him, a bit more serious than he intended.

Shane just nodded.

"I'll take you to the ER in the morning," Ryan told him, pouring his coffee out in the sink. "I should probably go to sleep."

"Alright. Thanks again," the brunette said. He took a sip of coffee and let his eyes slip to black as Ryan disappeared around the corner.

-

Shane hadn't been to the hospital in a long time. Decades. He hated the feeling of chalky rubber gloves, and he hated how cold fingers felt on his neck. The paper gown they dressed him in didn't leave much to the imagination, but thankfully, Ryan wasn't paying too much attention.

Ryan sat in the stiff chair on the other side of the room, biting his fingernails. They were both on edge after dropping Wyatt off at school and getting strange looks because of Shane's neck.

"Well," the doctor began after a few examinations and an x-ray, "it could have been a lot worse."

Shane exhaled. Ryan didn't budge.

"Your spine isn't broken or even fractured. Whoever tried to hurt you isn't very thorough."

"Thanks, Doc," Shane snorted. He looked over to the x-ray and pointed at it, "Look, Ryan."

"What?"

"This is your neck on drugs."

Ryan laughed so hard he snorted.

"How long until I'm good to head home?" Shane asked, pulling his (well, Ryan's) shirt over his head with a bit of difficulty.

"I'd say, according to your information," the doctor glanced back at the chart, "A month at the least."

Shane's mouth fell open. He was too weak to travel "the easy way."

Ryan just stood and said, "Thanks so much, we appreciate it."

The walk from the waiting room to the car was silent, but as soon as the car doors slammed behind them, Shane couldn't hold it in anymore.

"You don't have to let me stay," Shane said quickly before Ryan could say the words. "I can get a bus or go find another place."

Ryan wrapped his fingers around the steering wheel and sighed before dropping his hands and turning to Shane, "Are you saying that because you want to find another place to stay or because you think I want you to go?"

Shane frowned, "I thought..."

"I don't want you to go."

"Okay," Shane sighed. "I don't want to either. I just thought I'd offer. Just in case."

"Just know," Ryan said, his face stern, "As soon as you do something to make me think you're not safe to be around my son, I will kick you out."

Shane smiled and nodded, much to the chagrin of his own body. "Thank you."

Ryan smiled back, his hard outer shell melting away, "Alright. You're stuck with us for awhile."

"I should probably figure out what my room rules are going to be."

Ryan laughed. "I don't know where he got that."

"He's controlling. Must also be hereditary."

Ryan glared at him. "Don't make me reconsider my hospitality."

Shane turned on the radio in response.

-

By the time Wyatt had gotten home, Ryan and Shane had watched three different films and gotten frighteningly close to kissing at one point, but they would probably avoid talking about that for a day or two. Wyatt stood in the doorway after being dropped off by the bus and held up his index finger and loudly declared that he was going to go do his homework. Shane looked at Ryan with wide eyes, but the shorter man just rolled his eyes and let the boy go up to his room.

It only took a few seconds for Wyatt to reappear at the end of the hallway with hunched shoulders. "Shane, will you help me?"

Shane did a double take, "Me?"

"Yes," Wyatt said with a wanton look.

"O-okay, um..." He stood and brushed off his jeans. "What kind of homework is it?"

Wyatt visibly shivered, "Science."

"I love science!" Shane walked over and Wyatt (with a wide smile on his face) turned and ran toward his room. Shane quickly followed. It took hardly five minutes for the work to be finished, but they stayed in there for an hour, Shane introducing Wyatt to the different kinds of music he liked. Wyatt liked the music because there were a few bad words, and he was itching to go put some coins in the swear jar. Shane knew he'd get a kick out of that.

After Wyatt had fallen asleep later that night, Shane walked into the living room and watched Ryan play a game on his phone for a little bit before sighing loud enough for Ryan to hear, "I'm sorry for intruding here."

Ryan shook his head, throwing an arm over the back of the couch to look at him, "I don't mind continuing this bad parent streak for awhile longer."

Shane couldn't contain his smile, launching himself over the back of the sofa and settling in underneath Ryan's arm.

-

"I'm a demon," Shane said mindlessly as Ryan walked down the aisle, pushing the squeaky cart and scanning his shopping list.

Ryan just shook his head, "Shane, will you grab that box on the top shelf?"

Shane blinked. He handed the box down to him, confused by the thankful smile Ryan sent him.

"Doesn't that bother you?" Shane leaned down to make eye contact, but Ryan was busy with the list.

"Nope." Ryan raised an eyebrow, "Demons aren't real."

"Ryan, look at me."

Ryan glanced up, exasperated. His eyes gleamed as Shane's eyes turned to black. "That's pretty cool."

Shane rolled his eyes, "Pretty cool? Really?"

"You're a demon that does drugs. Yes, it's cool."

"I don't actually do drugs, Ryan."

Ryan squinted at him, crossing an item off his list. "Then... what do you do?"

"Like..." Shane rubbed the back of his neck. Ryan pointed to another box on the top shelf, and Shane picked it up. "Human souls?"

Ryan's dad face was back.

"Not yours, obviously. But it has a drug-like effect. And I don't need it to survive."

Ryan nodded once, "Then it isn't a problem."

Shane shrugged. "Alright."

They reached the end of the aisle and Ryan turned to look at him. "Do you have wings?"

"Yeah," Shane looked down at him. "Why?"

"Can I see them?"

"Now?"

"No," Ryan bumped his shoulder against Shane's. "When we get home. Wyatt likes birds."

"I'm not a bird, Ryan." Shane was nearly offended.

"Well, I'm not telling Wyatt you're a demon, so." Ryan pushed the cart ahead.

"Why not?" Shane was on his heels, "He'd have so much cred at school."


End file.
